


Algorithm of Soul (Metamorphosys 3)

by HungarianGreenRat



Category: Original Work
Genre: Dark, Death, Human Experimentation, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LGBTQ Character, M/M, Magic, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Pagan Gods, Slash, Witchcraft
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-20
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-21 17:50:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13746162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HungarianGreenRat/pseuds/HungarianGreenRat
Summary: A man without memories escaping in the cold winter night, he does not have anything, only the knowledge: the skill for he destined for to use.Can anyone be more than he made for?





	Algorithm of Soul (Metamorphosys 3)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not a native english speaker, so please forgive my mistakes, and if you find some strange thing, please let me know, I would like to be better :) My grammar according to preterit is sooo awful, I'm trying to fix it, haha.
> 
> The chapters will be about this lenght, I'm writing this story in my mother language (hungarian) and it takes time to translate, I think I'll update once a week.

The silence was heavy and filled with tension which only can be sensed on winter nights when the sky is bleeding dirty orange, and the landscape is white - some kind of veil falls to the world, like you're dreaming, everything is sparkling and motionless.  
  
The winter slowly passed, with every day the sun shined down from higher,  but it gave only the hope of warmness and some gloomy dull brightness.  
  
The man cladded in dark clothes was resolutedly moved beside the highway which shined by the ice that frozed on it, on the sides from the ditches  
bare, dead weed peeped. The plow field's dusty brown erath clods are laid  until the distant dormant forest. The naked, black skeleton trees' boughs grasped for the ill-colored sky.  
  
There was awful coldness.  
  
He pulled together his jacket, adjusted his backpack. Under his hood black, curly-messy hair sticked out, his nose was defined and straight, his face was pale, had dark circles under his eyes.  
  
Suddenly stopped moving, stayed still, listened.  
  
He looked around accourately, but everything seemed to unchanged, moveless and dead. Still as if he could smell some kind of ether-scent, and he rather felt than heard a barely measurable buzz from the far, kind of when you stand by high voltage cables, it slowly overhelmed the land.  
  
He didn't hesitate, started to run, carefully skittered by the icy highway, targeted the forthcoming forest. The rythmic boot-knocking was interrupted by supressed coughing. He didn't stopped, tried to not to miss the lilt.  
  
He cut across the concrete-hard frozen land, climbed over the dried ditch then entered the forest. He tried to go as deep as he could, bended when the lower boughs tried to clawed him.  
  
He could be seen yet because the absence of green vegetation, when he heard the car's noise. Looked back nervously and increased the pace. The frozen plants gritted and skitted under his boots.  
  
Suddenly he reached a green glade, as if wasn't end of January, but months would passed by, the air was sensably warmer, he could feel the raw scent of breath of life.  
  
He stopped surpried then pressed his hand to his chest. Another ugly, bad cough came from the deep, his face became distorted from the pain. He pulled out a rag from his pocket and kept to his mouth. When the attach hushed, he examinated the thing, it was spotted by black, oily luquid. With unreadabla face he folded the rag and stucked in the pocket of his bag, then gazed around.  
  
He didn't remember to see the changing when the dead land became to elive, but he hasn't got time to mull over on it, because the instict to flee was stronger.  
  
Only few minutes he could run, then another cough-attack came, he stooped and desperately tried to catch his breathe, but it seemed impossible, the digusting black liquid leaked to his gloves.  
  
In the distance the car's motor's noise has died, somebody closed the car's door.  
  
He tried to straighten up, catched a nearly tree's bole, but his legs were weak, his fingers were trembling, he fell over, unfolded on the ground like a ragdoll. He laid on his side, tried to calm down his roaming heart, tried to took deep, long breaths. It wasn't easy, because the distant murmurring moved closer, he could hear some command-shreads.  
  
He tried to get up, but he couldn't sit up, it seemed to impossible to stand up. He started to drowning again. His face was covered by cold sweat.  
  
He couldn't do anything just harkening and trying to be as still as he can.  
  
Then he noticed the girl among the bushes.


End file.
